Greatest Fears, Greatest Desires
by notime4stopsigns
Summary: Sherlock is with Afghanistan with John. Angst, fluff. Friends, maybe more. Character death, except, not really. You'll understand when you read it. Er, and romance. Sorta.


**OH HAI MARK. No, okay so this isn't my first Sherlock fanfiction but it's the first one I've ever put up. Er-officially, that is. Anyway disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or John or their sexiness. I wish. Okay so yeah, I hope you like it, please review and etc., I like to get lots and lots of constructive criticism so I can improve my writing. Thanks! -Love, Val.**

_Don't panic. Don't panic._

John was panicking.

The blood was coming out fast. Too fast for it to be real.

_Apply pressure to wound._

"Oh god, oh god."

He pressed the gauze hard onto the bullet wound. Straight through the chest.

"You're going to be okay, it's just one right?"

The injured soldier didn't answer.

"Come on! Tell me! Did they get you any where else?"

He didn't open his eyes but replied with more than just a grunt.

"G-got me. Twice. Maybe-" He gasped as John touched his lower stomach"-three times...leg?" He was trying hard not to stutter. He started to fade again.

"No, no, no!" John pulled open the thin man's eyes. Liquid silver drops in the dark. It was the only way he could properly describe them. Out of focus. Glazed over. He was going. Fast.

He felt the soldiers wrist for a pulse. Too faint to tell. Checked his neck. Hardly anything more than tapping on a drum.

He remembered just the other day they had been laughing together. Talking about how crazy it was out here in Afghanistan. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, hoping to be back in the early dawn of that morning when he opened them. He opened them just a crack. Still dark. Past midnight. Dawn was years and miles away. Gunfire and yells in the distance. Flashing light of an explosion. His stomach dropped as he turned back to his patient, his friend, maybe more than that.

He found the stomach and leg wound and went through the motions. It was too late. There was no point. But he had too. He had to finish the job.

"OCD much?" A fellow doctor, Timothy MacHenry, leaned over John and the dying man.

"H-he can't go this way! He can't! Tim, help me! He has so much left to do-people to save, crimes to solve-"

"What the hell are you talking about, Watson? We don't have time for personal problems. Finish whatever you can and mark down the time of death. Brother's an important government official. Can't fuck up any paperwork or he'll have our heads. So do it right." He walked away, out into the fog that John hadn't noticed before. It was encircling them. Like a curtain. This was the final scene. The battlefield was their stage. He was the heroine, or supposed to be anyway. He hadn't managed to save anyone. 'Anyone', meaning the tall man with his head in John's lap. Totally incapacitated now. Nothing like his "high-functioning sociopath" friend.

He cursed. He couldn't hear his own voice. Tears broke through his self-control and strangled him.

He checked the pulse again. Nothing. Glanced at his watch through the tears that threatened to blind him permanently.

"Time of death, 2:04 am," he whispered. Tim was back again at his side.

"Identification?" he prodded gruffly.

John swallowed and wiped his eyes.

"Sherlock Holmes. Killed in Action."

John jolted upright in his bed like someone had just sent hundreds of volts of electricity through his body.

He was breathing hard. He rubbed his temples, trying to calm himself down. He wanted to stab his brain now. Make is subconscious pay for giving him that fucked up nightmare. He wanted to cry, but his eyes ached. He touched his cheeks and felt sticky wet tears. His face was burning. He had been crying in his sleep.

"You screamed too."

He started, then, recognizing the voice, turned his head to the door.

"God, Sh-" He choked on his flatmate's name. He took a deep breath. "Sherlock. You scared the hell out of me. Don't do that."

Sherlock just nodded. He was leaning against the door frame, looking more than ever, like a pretentious street cat. His silver eyes flashing in the dark only added to the effect.

"You were dreaming about me. In Afghanistan. With you."

"I know I'll feel like an idiot for asking, but how-"

"You mentioned me plenty of times. Talking in your sleep, John. I know more about your brain than I should."

"You could just stop watching me sleep. But it isn't as if you don't know everything about me already."

"True, but you'd be surprised by what _fascinating_ details I've learned from your...generous subconscious."

John swore Sherlock had winked at him as he said this, but it could have easily been a trick of the light. Or lack thereof.

"So...what happened?" Sherlock asked cautiously. "To me, I mean."

"What?"

"In your dream, John." He sounded guilty for his impatience. Sherlock with a conscience? Interesting.

"Oh."

He waited for John to go on. He didn't.

"Did I...die?" he prompted.

"Oh." He said nothing else.

"I'll take that as a yes. Nasty thing, that subconscious of yours."

John nodded. His mouth felt like a desert.

Sherlock cocked his head.

"Want some water?"

It was like the man could read his mind. He disappeared from the door frame and John heard a mugs clanging and then a faucet running. He lay back and closed his eyes.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep before Sherlock came back with his water. He was exhausted. Sherlock didn't seem to mind.

John woke up in the morning with the detective curled up against his back, fast asleep. Those late night observations of John had been sure to catch up with him eventually. John smiled and closed his eyes.

Sometimes nightmares had advantages. They showed you your greatest fears, and sometimes by knowing your fears, you would get to know your greatest desire. He had met his fear and faced it. Lost, perhaps, but now he knew what he wanted more than anything in the world.

**HIIII, okay so don't forget to review and stuff and I dunno, did the ending seem a bit corny to you? I thought it was, but that it was kinda cute too… If you read this whole thing, I am eternally grateful.**


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